Nathan's POV
Jaret didn't wait long. He grabbed a glowing rod of iron from the flames and slammed it against the anvil with practiced precision, sparks flaring like angry fireflies.
"Watch closely," he barked over the noise. "You don't move until I say so. You don't grab anything unless I tell you. This isn't a toy — it's fire, and it'll burn the damn hesitation out of you."
I nodded stiffly, the heat biting into my face even from a few steps away.
He shaped the metal quickly, then threw the cooled piece aside with a hiss and turned to me. "Bring me another. Now."
I scrambled toward the fire, grabbed the tongs with both hands, and reached into the furnace. The heat was unbearable. My eyes stung. My gloves felt too thick, like they were working against me. But I got hold of the iron.
It was heavier than I thought. My arms shook as I turned and stumbled toward him with the glowing metal.
